


Life After Lily

by SilverMidnightPrincess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baby Harry Potter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Moving On, Slow Burn, Swearing, lots of swearing usually internally you've been warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2020-10-12 09:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20562362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMidnightPrincess/pseuds/SilverMidnightPrincess
Summary: Voldemort waited one more day before attacking the Potters, and killed Lily before realising Harry and James weren't home. James struggles to adjust to a life as a single parent under constant threat, at least until he gets help from an unlikely (and mostly unwilling) ally.





	1. The Funeral - James

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Just a heads up, I won't be uploading on a set schedule so don't expect something too regular. Having said that I'll try to update at least once a month and please feel free to hound me for updates if you're enjoying the story.

The funeral was quiet. There were tears, of course, but no one could bring themselves to speak more than a few words before staring at the fresh headstone jutting out of the earth that had taken yet another body too soon. It wasn’t as though the war had let everyone survive. It had taken the Prewitt twins just weeks apart, and a whole squad of freshly trained aurors days before. But that was battle. People die in battle. This was the first time He had hunted down a family. He had attacked whole muggle towns before but that was on a whim; this was calculated. This wasn’t a crazed act of hatred. This was personal. It made James hold Harry a little tighter as people offered him their condolences. aH Harry didn’t make it easy though. He squirmed and reached for anyone who came within his line of vision. He wanted to hug anyone who was crying. Or talking. Or breathing, really. Harry was very into hugs at the moment. Lily got so many that even she had begun to complain. Hugging would be something she would do if it was him in the ground instead. Which is why James decided to let Harry hug every single person who attended his wife’s funeral. 

Even Petunia Fucking Dursley. 

She was standing at the back, staring at the headstone as though it were enchanted to swear at her, nose scrunched as though she smelled something foul (her perfume, probably). She was alone, and no one seemed to want to interact with her anyway. James thought that fact had a lot to do with the look of absolute disgust she flung at anyone who glanced at her. Bitch. This would be fun; Harry’s hands were grubby and would ruin the cream blouse she wore. Lily would tell him to be nice if she were there. But she wasn’t. She was dead. This was her funeral and her own sister was wearing cream. Who wears cream to their sister’s funeral? It was his responsibility to fix that. If Harry dirtied the garment, then he’d have to turn it black to hide the sticky fingerprints. It was a fucking ugly top anyway. He’d be doing her a favour. Really. After most people had left, he steeled himself for Lily’s cunt of a sister, excused himself from his conversation with Mary MacDonald and made his way over to the cow. 

“Petunia.” James greeted softly, ignoring the greasy look she gave him as he breeched her personal space. “Thank you for coming, I know Lily would be glad you were here.” He honestly thought she wouldn’t reply but his expectations were obviously too high.

“I know that.” she snapped, “I know- knew my sister better than you did so don’t even try to console me. I assume that’s what you think you’re doing. I don’t want sympathy from a freak like you. I’m simply here to see if she’s really dead.” James didn’t know what to say to that but Harry seemed to have that sorted. 

“Sad!” He exclaimed, reaching for his aunt. “Hug make bet-ta!” Petunia recoiled from the grabby hands Harry was making as though they were covered in mud. They weren’t. Just snot and saliva. James hadn’t thought to bring a handkerchief. Lily always had one. And he didn’t think it would be appropriate to cast charms on his son and make him giggle at his wife’s funeral. 

“He wants a hug.” James said, holding Harry out.

“No.” Harry was beginning to squirm and reach out more insistently, making frustrated noises as he did so. His calls for a hug getting louder and louder. He’d throw a tantrum soon if he didn’t get what he wanted, and James simply didn’t have it in him to discipline him just yet. 

“Please. Just fucking-”

“No.”

“Petunia. Fucking hug the child. It’s not that hard. This is his mother’s funeral for fuck’s sake.” James prayed he was going insane, but by the look on Petunia’s face, he could tell he was not. Fuck.

“How dare you come here!” She was close to her famous screeching, “Freak! She wouldn’t want you here! Leave! Now! You- you horrible boy!” James finally turned around to confirm that the person his cunt of a sister-in-law was screeching at was the one person he hated more than her. He wished he hadn’t.

Snape looked like shit. Even that was gracious. Snape always looked like shit but he was considerably shittier looking than usual. It seemed that although he had finally hit puberty and grown into most of his features, (his nose was not one of them, sadly) he was still shorter than James, and the state of his hair made what the Marauders had teased him for at Hogwarts look clean. His eyes were sunken and puffy at the same time, as though he had been crying. He was less twitchy than James remembered but his eyes still darted about as though he was planning a quick escape. Probably was. The moment Tuney had Harry in her arms James would punch the asshole for showing up. He had a lot of things to be fucking angry for, and most of them - as with a lot of his problems in his life - had Snape to blame. 

Snape’s face twisted then, and it took James a moment to realise that the face he was pulling was some sort of sick grin. It made Harry giggle. 

“She wouldn’t? Did she tell you that herself? I was under the impression that her son and I were the only people she had seen thus far. She certainly wasn’t planning on visiting you, especially given that you’re wearing a bloody white top to her funeral. I’m beginning to regret keeping you safe for the last few months, if this had been your funeral, I’m sure Lily would have given you a lovely speech about how wonderful you were. Did you speak? I thought you would have a long list of things to say about her seeing as you knew her better than anyone here. Although I suppose if this was your funeral she would be talking to empty seats, so why don’t you run along home to your little piglet and drink your brandy out of your new crystal tumblers you got at full price in London the other day before your nephew ruins that disgusting blouse of yours in an attempt to comfort you.” As he spoke, quietly, almost a whisper, Snape stepped closer and closer to Petunia it seemed he was towering over her. He wasn’t. Petunia had just shrunk back from him as though she could feel his anger, she was taller than Snape in those kitten heels she was wearing. James could feel the magic in the air tingle in anticipation of being used. He could tell by the twitch in Snape’s fingers that he was restraining himself from his wand, James would never admit it, but Snape’d always been better than him at wandless magic, especially when he was angry, or frightened, or threatened.

And of course, Petunia took it upon herself to make it worse.

“You’ve been stalking me now, have you? Couldn’t get my sister so you moved on to the next best thin-”

“How dare you compare yourself to Lily!” He hissed. Flecks of spittle gathering in the corner of his mouth, “You are, and always will be gutter trash compared to that woman! You. Are. Nothing.” Snape’s anger was quickly spiralling into an all-out rage; “You should feel privileged to have even breathed the air she did, you disgusting little parasite.”

It hadn’t occurred to James until that moment that while Snape may have looked like complete and utter trash and a strong gust of wind could blow him over, his magic was the complete opposite, and he had most certainly improved since Hogwarts. James could feel the curse forming in the air. He knew the exact one that was coming. He still had a scar on his cheek from the last time he had been on the receiving end of it. He couldn’t let Harry see that. He didn’t think. He grabbed Snape’s arm. 

“You need to leave.”


	2. Acquisition of A Rat Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments!! Let me know what your think of this chapter and what you think will happen next. I'm YesIMadeAnArtBlog on Tumblr, come and say hi, I might start posting chapter snippets. (Also SilverMidnightPrincess but that's just a dumpster fire of everything)

“You need to leave.” Potter’s grip loosened as though an afterthought. It probably was, Potter never thought before he acted. Severus whipped his head around to tell Potter to not fucking touch him, but before he could get a single word out, Petunia opened her foul mouth.

“Me? How dare you! This is my sister’s funeral! If anyone is leaving, it’s him.” Severus stared at Potter. Surely he had missed something. Why was he still glaring at Petunia? Why was he still holding Severus’ arm? 

“Yes. You need to go.” Petunia was growing redder by the second. “Lily wouldn’t want a scene, and as much as I hate you, I don’t want to be picking up your body parts for the next two hours. You said you came here to see if she was really dead. You’ve got your answer, so piss off.” He snapped, waving her away like an animal.

Severus looked back at Petunia to see her sporting the exact same expression he was; her mouth agape and drifting open and shut like some sort of fish out of water. Neither of them could believe what Potter was saying. He genuinely thought Lily’s sister would come up with some sort of idiotic comeback to her brother in law’s comments, but her eyes darted to Severus and she seemed to realise that staying any longer may, in fact, kill her. Not that Severus would intentionally slaughter a muggle on magical land in front of an auror (albeit a junior one), that would be stupid. She huffed and actually, physically stomped her foot like a toddler and stormed off, her shoes sinking into the grass as she went, making her stumble.

It was silent for a few moments as both men watched the woman struggle, Severus chanced a look at Potter, who seemed shocked at himself. His snot-nosed son was grinning at him, his green eyes shining in amusement. 

Potter was still holding his arm.

Severus snatched it back as though he had been burned, and took a few cautionary steps back. The action snapped Potter out of whatever thoughts were short-circuiting his brain, he muttered an apology before pulling a face.

“Easier to confound than you.” He muttered as though it were an adequate explanation. “What are you doing here, anyway? I could probably arrest you if I wanted to.” Potter eyed Severus’ left arm as though a boggart lived up his sleeve, and for half of a moment, Severus wondered if the Dark Mark was his worst fear. Pushing the thought aside, he squared his shoulders.

“Then arrest me, Potter. Azkaban looks better to me than going back to Hogwarts for another year.” He stepped closer to Potter. He’d developed that habit while teaching, it was quite effective in terrifying his students into compliance. James Potter however, did not shrink back like his students did, and it most certainly did not help that Severus was half a head shorter than Potter in the first place, who took full advantage of that fact, straightening his spine and towering over him, like he had in school.

“Why go back, then?” Potter spat, almost nose to nose with him now. 

“Someone has to teach potions.” The air buzzed with magic, begging his fingertips to manipulate it. “Anything else, Potter?” Severus ground out. Potter blinked.

“Actually.” He said slowly, dragging each syllable as though he didn’t want to finish his sentence. “I was going to contact you.” 

Severus would have preferred to watch the grass grow.

“I need, ah-” He swallowed as if attempting to keep his lunch down. “I need your help to find Peter Pettigrew.”

“Potter, I’m not sure how you are blissfully unaware of this, but your pet dog blew up a whole muggle street when he killed your little henchman. The only thing left of him is his-”

“Finger. I know, Snivellus, but he was our Secret Keeper, he’s-”

“What?” Potter ignored him.

“He’s an animagus and he’s the reason Lily’s dead. He’s literally the rat in the Order, and I know in my bones that he’s still alive.”

“If he told the Dark Lord Lily’s whereabouts, I will kill him myself, you would not even have time to tell Azkaban to prepare a room.” Potter scoffed. 

“Oh no, Snape, I’d kill him. You’d make it hurt.” Severus didn’t think James Potter capable of murder, but he didn’t need legilimancy to tell he meant it. He nodded once and turned, fully intending to walk away, when a tiny hand grabbed his coat.

“Hug!”

***

“How was it?” Fucking hell. Severus could not get a break, could he? He rooted around his shelf for a tumbler he had inherited from his father and accio’d the firewiskey. Pointedly ignoring the woman, he sat down in the ratty old armchair he couldn’t be bothered to replace.

“Well?” Severus poured himself a large glass and took a swig. He had been nagged and nagged all day and it seemed he would be nagged all night. He took another gulp.

“Severus Snape, do not ignore me. I’m not leaving until you tell me how the funeral was.” Severus finally looked at her. 

“I was under the impression the duration of your stay here was indefinite.”

“It is, but answer me anyway, it’ll give you something else to do instead of drinking all that.”

“It was a funeral. What do you want me to tell you? People cried, people hugged other people. Too much hugging, if you ask me. Petunia turned up wearing white like she was the fucking angel of light, which James Fucking Potter believed to be inappropriate and shockingly, I agreed with him. He also made me hug his son, who got snot all over my best black coat.” Severus ticked off each fact on his fingers.

“Your only black coat.”

Severus went back to ignoring her.

“Was he crying? Or was his nose just runny again?”

“Why should I care? That’s Potter’s problem, not mine.” Pouring himself another glass, Severus looked at her and rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, I told you when you showed up here that I didn’t want to do this. I went to the funeral and humiliated myself there, what other favours do you want me to do for you? And that is not an open invitation for you to start a list.”

“Maybe if I see them and tell them, maybe then I can move on.” She said softly. Severus met their hopeful eyes and his own blew wide.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Sev, please.” Severus didn’t dignify that with an answer. “I’m not asking for much! I just want to talk to them, and I can’t do that in Godric’s Hollow.”

“No.” Severus got up and swept out of the room, casting Nox as if to reaffirm his decision. The only thing left illuminating the small space was the soft blue glow of Lily Potter’s ghost, floating beside the empty fireplace.


	3. Unwanted Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry misses Lily and James has an emotional breakdown.

James had thought he was a good dad. Now he was starting to doubt that. He knew that Harry loved treacle tart, just like his mother, he loved flying on his little toy broom, just like he had when he was a kid, he loved moving and hiding and above all, attention.

It had been cute at first, James had showered his son with gifts and games to play. Treating him with his favourite foods and letting him stay up late and sleep in his bed, despite all the hours Lily had spent adjusting him to his own room. But now Harry was getting far too much for James to handle on his own, he and Lily had split the responsibilities evenly between them, and swapped around quite often, so it wasn’t like he didn’t know how to make dinner, but he was slowly coming to realise that he had very much taken Lily’s prompting for granted. He no longer had someone to remind him that Harry needed a nap, and as a consequence, Harry would throw a tantrum at the smallest thing. So he had set time aside for a nap. 

The only issue was that when Harry slept, so did he. And there was no one there to wake him up or remind him to start on dinner. Or to step in when Harry got frustrated in the bath or insisted on the same story for the fifth time before bed, or deal with him when he got up at one a.m. for the third night in a row, it was all up to James.

Suffice it to say he wasn’t sleeping very well. 

“Harry, can you be quiet for Daddy?” 

“No.” He answered honestly, and went back to babbling away at the cat and his toy owl, scrambling up to fly it around the room and into James’ leg with a screech. Again. 

“Please?”

“Why?”

“Because Daddy starts back at work next week and he needs to do this form so the play room can look after you until Uncle Moony’s better.” James explained. Again.

“I like Uncle Moony.”

“Me too.”

“Come over soon?” James took a deep breath, fingers rubbing his temples.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s sick at the moment.”

“Why?”

“Bug bite.” Close enough to the truth.

“What bug?”

“I don’t know.” James forced a tight-lipped smile. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“It hurt?” Harry cocked his head at his owl.

“I would imagine so.” Harry nodded in understanding.

“Like Oli bite Harry.” James closed his eyes and nodded the affirmative.  
Harry had grabbed the cat’s tail earlier that week and got a nasty bite on his hand in retaliation, he had screamed bloody murder and behaved as though his whole arm had been ripped off until his father had kissed it better and given him a square of chocolate to placate him. Evidently, chocolate did nothing to stop his son from talking about the experience to anyone who would listen. Which was, at the moment, James, his toy owl (named Tree), Bathilda down the street and Oliver the cat himself, from whom Harry made sure to stay a safe distance as he recalled his traumatising ordeal, pointing out each place the teeth had pierced his flesh; he was slightly off each time on both the number of teeth the cat possessed and where exactly his hand had been injured. That was one good thing about being a junior auror, James had become quite adept at healing spells, and Harry had no marks on his hand to point out as a result. 

Harry closed his eyes and nodded again. Telling Tree once again about his battle with Oliver, leaving James for a moment to hastily fill out as much of the day care paperwork he could before Harry’s attention turned back to him. It was a record sixty seconds that he got to himself, then Harry flopped down dramatically at his feet, grabbing his ankle and ramming Tree into it with the appropriate sound effects.

“Harry.” James warned, taking his glasses off and rubbing his forehead.

“Yes?” He accentuated his question with another slam of his toy.

“Stop. That.” He really didn’t want to snap at Harry but almost a three weeks of unrelenting questions, tantrums and hardly any sleep was wearing his patience thin. Harry didn’t stop.

“Why?”

“Because it hurts Daddy.” He replied, trying to gently tug his foot out of his child’s grasp, his hand scrunching the paperwork into a ball as Harry adjusted his grip and pulled off his sock.

“No it doesn’t.” Harry rammed Tree’s beak in between his big and second toe. 

“No! It doesn’t! But it’s fucking annoying!” James snapped, slamming his hands on the desk and standing up. Harry jumped.

James bent down and took Tree off his son. “If you hit me with this one more time I will throw it out. Do you understand?” Harry’s expression went from one of shock to one of terror, his eyes welling up with tears.

“No! Daddy, No!”

“Then don’t hit me with it. Okay?” Harry nodded his head, reaching up for his toy, panicked sounds escaping him as he stood on his tip toes and grabbed it from his father, hugging it to his chest. The boy retreated to the other side of the room and talked in a hushed voice to Tree, glancing at his father every now and then. 

James had just signed the final page of the paperwork when Harry spoke up again. 

“Daddy?” His voice quieter and as serious as a one-year-old could be. James hummed in response. “Mummy come back tonight?” 

“No, Harry. Mummy isn’t -” James breathed in and swallowed the lump in his throat. “She isn’t coming back.”

“Oh.” 

James turned to look at Harry, who was hugging Tree tightly to his chest. 

“Harry?” Harry hummed in response. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.” James knelt in front of his son, trying to catch his gaze. “I won’t throw Tree away.” 

Harry looked up with a worried expression on his face. “Pomise?” James nodded and ruffled his hair. “Mummy gave him to me.” He replied softly. 

James wasn’t sure when he started crying, but he had Harry in a firm hug, sobbing into his tangled hair, Harry was sniffling and buried his face in the crook of his neck, which became wet from his fat tears. 

Minutes passed. (Hours? Days?) When James finally composed himself, he thought Harry had fallen asleep, cried himself out. What a pathetic dad he made. Couldn’t even keep it together for his own kid. He stood up, ready to take Harry to bed for an early nap, when he mumbled something into his shoulder.

“What was that, Harry?” Harry pulled back to meet his eyes.

“Is mummy cold outside?” James chuckled sadly and shook his head.

“No, mummy is snug as a bug where she is.” 

“Oh.” Harry thought for a moment. “Is her friend cold outside?” 

“Who?” 

“The one Auntie Tuney doesn’t like.” Harry replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, staring over James’ shoulder.

“Snape can take care of himself, Harry.” James murmured, reaching for his wand in his back pocket. The hairs on the back of his neck rose up, the moment he asked Harry why, there was a knock on the door. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like that meme from the Great British Bakeoff encompasses this chapter and James' emotional state entirely. Thank you all for your patience with this update, I'm back and please feel free to call me out for not updating at least once a month. I am maKiNG a cOmMitmENT. 
> 
> Yell at me on Tumblr! @yesimadeanartblog


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